


One Verse

by OpalEmpress



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Captain Neikke Starbinder (OC) - Freeform, F/F, Gen, Minor Injuries, Pre-Relationship, The Starbinder Legacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:42:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26562334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalEmpress/pseuds/OpalEmpress
Summary: Neikke and Risha are bad at being vulnerable. Go figure, it takes a literal shot in the gut for either of them to lower their barriers.
Relationships: Risha Drayen/Female Smuggler, Risha Drayen/Smuggler
Kudos: 5





	One Verse

The smell of fast acting kolto burned inside Neikke’s nose, even from where she stood outside the medbay of the ship. Her knuckles were white against the butt of her blaster and the tumbler she held in her opposite hand, and she could feel her face stuck in the same snarl it had morphed into earlier.

It should have been simple—so simple. Just a quick speeder ride over to the drop off point, grab the credits and then back to the ship. Not even an hour on the ground—exactly how she liked her customers to behave.

But of course there had been an Imperial scouting party. Of course they had spotted her and then Risha. And of course, they had assumed they were Republic spies.

There had been no reason not to run, but of course they hadn’t. Neikke prided herself on not running from fights—especially fights that her mother might hear about. And it had all been going fine.

Until one of the fucking snipers timed a shot right. A blaster shot that sank deep into Risha’s hip.

It was a little fuzzy after that. Bloody, though. Neikke absentmindedly rubbed some drying blood and bone shards from the barrel of her gun.

Corso appeared next to her, trying to make her meet his eyes for a moment before giving up, “You look rough, Captain. You need a drink?”

She wordlessly held the tumbler up, the ice clinking in the glass.

“Okay, sure. But I’m gonna point us to Port Nowhere, okay? If nothing else, they’ll have hot ‘freshers and decent mixers.”

Neikke nodded, eyes fixed on the vitals readout. She had enough memories to know the readout was stable. Risha was fine. Or she would be.

She took another drink.

Corso sighed, “Just go talk to her, Captain. She’s awake, you know. And it wasn’t your fault.”

He was wrong, she knew. A whisper in the shape of her sister crept into her mind _. If you hadn’t tried to show off, perhaps your friend would have been unharmed._ And then, one shaped like her mother, _It was not YOU that suffered—thus there is no damage done. Don’t be ridiculous, girl._

Neikke snarled and threw the tumbler against the wall of the Runaway. The shadows drifted away like smoke, leaving only Corso looking at her with his face somewhere between incredulousness, fear and concern.

She interrupted him before his mouth was open. “I’m fine, Riggs. Go man the helm.”

He put his hands up, “Oh-kay. I’ll get See-Too to clean up your mess.”

“Fine.”

Neikke took a deep breath as his footsteps faded, then tentatively stepped forward into the medbay.

The lights hurt her eyes, and the smells made her jaw ache with phantom pain. She rubbed her neck unconsciously, her frown etching itself even deeper into her face, as she leaned against the wall next to the bed Risha lay in.

Risha breathed easily, her eyes fluttering in the space between wakefulness and dreaming, held in the middle by the sedatives and kolto injections. Neikke felt like she couldn’t take a full breath. But then, she never could in hospitals or clinics.

A small moan escaped from Risha’s lips as her eyes peeled open, their movement slower than normal, not as quickly assessing and deconstructing the full picture, but they focused eventually on Neikke, and she tried to force her face into a smile.

“Hey, Rish,” she whispered, her voice cracking a little bit, “you’re on the ship. The droid says you’re okay. Just don’t move around too much, yeah?”

Risha’s face twisted for a moment as she tried to sit up, but relaxed after a moment, “What… Captain, what… happened?”

“Some jackass Imps got a cheap shot into you. I’m sure you won’t let it humble you. Plus they’re dead now, so it’s not like they got to gloat for long.”

“Oh.” Risha’s eyes blinked slowly. They looked bronze in this light, like perfectly polished metal, “I was wondering what happened to your jacket.”

“It’ll wash out.”

Risha’s face was almost calm—Neikke couldn’t remember a time when she had seen Risha without a quirked brow, or a crooked smile, or a sarcastic smirk. And yet, she wasn’t unrecognizable. She was still Risha.

“You know,” Risha’s voice was quiet, the words slow and mumbled, “You didn’t have to do that. I’m just glad to be home.”

Neikke almost scoffed, her hand tightening once again on the butt of her blaster. Of course she’d had to. When someone hits you, you hit them back harder, she almost said, but bit her tongue. Instead, she took a deep breath, and almost gagged at the scent of kolto from the bandaged wound on Risha’s hip.

“Okay, well… get some rest. We’re heading to Port Nowhere, and you know… don’t want you to miss out on a round.”

She turned on her heel, trying to leave as quickly as she could without bolting from the room, fingers rubbing against the cybernetics in her cheeks.

“Wait.”

Risha’s voice was quiet, barely heard, but Neikke stopped, one foot already in the hall.

“Will—will you sing something for me? Please?”

“I don’t sing.” Her voice sounded too crisp, too practiced in the response, and Neikke cursed at herself for not lying better.

“Yes, you do, captain. When you don’t think we can hear you, you do.”

Fuck.

Yes, she did sing, sometimes. How often had they heard her? Had Corso heard her humming one of the songs her mother had sung to her as a child, when she had bothered to play at being more than a Sith? Had Bowdaar noticed her singing to herself as she cleaned her blaster, one of the songs her father had taught her as they repaired this ship together, songs full of rhythm and the smell of exhaust? Or had Risha heard her singing in the old tongue of the Sith late at night, just once, when she had been too drunk not to be a little homesick, and the song had tasted like children’s laughter and chocolate, even if her pronunciation was still terrible?

An old habit, hard to break—she had meant to break it sooner.

“The sedatives are going to your head, Risha. You need some rest.”

Risha laughed, a snarky small laugh that sounded almost like herself, “Oh come on, Captain. Of all the things I brag I’m good at, I’m good at knowing when someone’s lying to me.” She shifted in the bed, sighing again, “It’s fine. It was stupid I asked. Never mind, Captain.”

Her breathing slowed again, the sedatives and exertion lulling her to sleep. Neikke could have left then. A month ago, even a week ago, maybe… she would have.

But she didn’t. Even if it was with a great deal of cursing under her breath, she eventually turned back to Risha.

“One verse. Just one. And we never speak of this again.”

A smile pulled Risha’s lips up, and she closed her eyes, “Deal, Captain.”

Neikke stood at the end of the medbay bed, her hands curling into the blankets for a few moments before she started to sing. Her voice wavered at first, but then settled into the rhythm of one verse of an old drinking song she had learned the first time she had gone to Nar Shaddaa, back when she still had an Imperial accent and sat too stiffly, when she had kept apart from others, wary of being dragged back to Ziost. The song didn’t sound quite right, with just one person singing it, too sober to wave away the notes that didn’t quite harmonize, and without a drink in hand. But when the verse was done, she kept singing—the chorus, and then the second verse, and then the third, until she saw that Risha’s eyes were fully closed and her breath was slow and even.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @verbose-vespertine on Tumblr for the beta read!


End file.
